


Hellbound

by melioraz



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Angst, Dark Magic, Established Relationship, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Magic, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Satanism, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Trauma, War in Heaven....2!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23745295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melioraz/pseuds/melioraz
Summary: Loyal to their infernal overlord, ghouls from all walks of life are summoned back to Hell to fight on its behalf.
Relationships: Air Ghoulette/Air Ghoulette, Earth Ghoul/Multi Ghoul | Swiss Army Ghoul
Kudos: 17





	1. Awake, arise, or be for ever fall'n

With a bow, lights fade, and the crowd howls their goodbyes. The fans were lively as always, responsive when prompted by their cardinal to sing. One by one, the cardinal praises each of his ghouls for a job well done, dismissing them from the stage. 

Subordinate ghouls scurry on stage to pack up equipment. Trying to help the band ghouls, they scoop up amps, speakers, monitors, the like; they are forbidden from touching the instruments, though, after an incident a few eras back. Not that they mind, they’d rather not risk being scratched or bitten by a certain fire ghoul. 

Backstage, the band ghouls begin to unwind. For some, unwinding after such an energetic event is easier said than done. Waiting for the go-ahead to enter their tour bus, Aether has his arms wrapped tightly around Dew from behind, gently shifting his weight between either foot. The combination of pressure and softly rocking back and forth helps calm Dew. 

One of the touring managers gives a thumbs up, to which the tired ghouls return to the confines of the bus. All are fatigued and sweaty; any other night, they’d loathe their cramped bunks, but tonight they’re looking awfully comfortable. Right now, though, they wait for the return of their cardinal, who is likely socializing with fans before retiring. 

All seven of them form a pile on one of the couches. Though drenched in sweat, they still crave the affection and presence of those closest to them. Aether runs his fingers through Rain’s hair, gently scratching his scalp with the pads of his fingers. Low, content purrs rumble from Rain’s throat, with his legs tangled with Mountain’s and Dew’s. Tucked neatly into Mountain’s side, Dew lazily plays with the spade of Multi’s tail. Cirrus has her back pressed against Swiss’s, holding lovingly onto Cumulus.

Before too long, Copia returns to the bus, seeing all his ghouls cuddled up with one another. He’d hate to ruin such a sweet moment, but part of him enjoys causing problems. He approaches and, with the toe of his pointed boots, lightly steps on an exposed tail to gain their attention. In return, he receives a sharp hiss with bared teeth from Dewdrop. The cardinal coughs into his closed fist to make his presence known to the rest, flicking on the fluorescent lights. 

“What a wonderful performance you put on for everyone tonight,” he praises, though he is met with tired and annoyed stares. “We are entering the final stretch of our tour, and I need you all on your best behavior; no scuffles or bar fights,” his eyes fall upon Dew, who has a reputation of such quarrels. “Now,” Copia brings his gloved hands together to punctuate, “get your beauty rest; by the looks of it, you all need it.” He gives a weak wave and with a turn on his heel, the cardinal leaves just as quickly as he arrived.

“He’s a bit of a dick, huh?” Mountain runs a hand over his face, attempting to wipe away the sleep. Rain sits up, rubbing his eyes. Checking his phone, it’s a bit past midnight.

“Just a bit?” Multi hides his eyes from the harsh lights of the bus, an arm thrown across his face.

“Better here than Hell,” Cumulus comments as she stands. She stretches her back and kneels back down to wake her partner. Cirrus takes Cumulus’s hand when offered, silently yawning into her own. The two air ghouls are the first to their bunks. Rain nudges Aether, who was definitely pretending to be asleep, as he let out a tired groan. It takes Dew practically dragging Aether to bring him to their stacked bunks. Mountain is guided by Rain’s hand to his respective shitty mattress, followed by Swiss.

Quickly shedding their layers of sweaty clothing, they prepare for another night of poor sleep. Swiss turns the lights out as he passes them, climbing into his bunk above Rain’s. Rain, being the sweetheart he is, wishes everyone a good night, despite all their privacy curtains being drawn. 

Behind a few curtains shines a faint blue light: ghouls checking their phones before calling it a night. One by one, each of these lights go out, except for Mountain’s. Lately, he’s been getting fewer and fewer hours of sleep, no matter how tired or fatigued he is. Maybe it’s the bunk being too small, with his legs curled up awkwardly, or his pillow is too flat, or the bus being too cold. 

Per his nightly routine, Dewdrop parts his curtain and drops silently from his upper bunk to seek company. Tonight’s lucky ghoul is Rain, who sleepily accepts a warm body to hold onto. Sometimes, Dew’ll get lucky and have cramped bunk sex with another ghoul, usually Aether or Swiss, but tonight is not one of those nights, to Mountain’s delight. 

It seems like hours pass; Mountain scrolling endlessly through his feed, waiting for much needed rest. The only sounds filling the space are the low rumble of the bus engine and the occasional rustle of blankets. He’d ask to cuddle with someone to aid in his sleep, but the only ones small enough to share a bunk with him are Rain and Dew.

He caves. There’s not many places to go within the bus, so Mountain locks himself in the bathroom, hoping a different environment would tire him. With his hands firmly planted on the sides of the sink, he scowls at himself in the mirror. 

“Why can’t you sleep, idiot?” He grabs at his face, turning his head side to side, inspecting himself. Something is off, like the mirror lags behind his movements. Mountain shakes the feeling, blaming the anomaly on his fatigue. He pulls his bottom eyelids down, holding eye contact with himself, willing himself to sleep. Of course, it fails.

His stomach lurches when his reflection blinks at him. When he steels himself, he focuses on one point in the mirror’s reflection. What should remain straight, solid lines waver and ripple slightly, like the surface of a pond. 

He feels nauseous; if this is magic, it’s unlike any he’s seen before. Slowly, Mountain raises his hand to the mirror, failing to keep himself steady, to touch its surface. As his hand approaches, a clawed hand emerges from the silver surface. Mountain’s ears fall back in fear as the hand takes a hold of his wrist, attempting to pull him through. 

“Fuck,” he braces himself with his free hand against the wall, widening his stance to hold his ground. His toes curl into the plush carpet beneath him. Another hand grabs his wrist, to which Mountain starts to scramble.

“Fuck!” He curses again, frantically looking around the bathroom for anything that could help. There’s nothing. He knocks bottles off the sink’s edge, loudly hitting the ground, as he reaches for the door. The hands begin to dig their nails into his skin. Mountain yells for help and bangs against the thin wall. 

Swiss is the first to wake, hearing the commotion. 

“What the fuck?” He sits up, parting his privacy curtain. Swiss peaks below his bunk, at Rain and Dew, to see if they heard it too. He nudges them awake until they begin to stir, only for the loud bangs to resume. 

He leaves the two, making a beeline for the source of shouting and banging. In the pit of his stomach, he has an inkling that something bad is happening. When he reaches the bathroom’s locked door, Swiss firmly knocks. In response, Mountain continues to clamor and cry for help. 

The hands continue to claw into his arm, drawing inky black ichor from his skin. Mountain puts all his weight into holding his ground, despite hearing Swiss’s voice on the other side of the door. 

“There’s— I’m— Fuck!” Mountain begins as the contour rug beneath his feet finally gives. He slips and loses his footing, allowing the hands to finally yank him forward. More claws dig into his back and sides as he’s pulled further. 

Once through, the small bathroom is left in silence and disarray. Swiss, now joined with Rain and Dew, waits on the other side of the door. He recognizes Mountain’s voice, immediately, and the sudden silence does not ease him. 

“Mounty, are you alright?” Swiss presses his ear to the door while trying the handle. Nothing. He motions Rain to wake Aether and the girls. Dutifully, he scurries off. He need not wake Cirrus and Cumulus, who were already on their way to the ruckus. He continues towards Aether, parting his curtain and shaking him awake. Understandably, in his sleep-induced stupor, Aether just blinks. Rain pulls at his arm.

“C’mon, something is wrong with Mountain,” he urges the larger ghoul. Aether finally gets to his feet and follows Rain back to the crowd forming around the bathroom door. Swiss quickly informs Aether, guiding him by the shoulders to stand in front of the locked door. 

“He was yelling for help and making a lot of noise. I don’t know what was happening, but suddenly it’s all quiet,” Swiss nervously shifts his weight. “Do you think you can kick the door open, or something?”

Aether takes a moment to look between the door and Swiss, thinking over the situation. He tries the knob, just in case, before clearing some space in front of the door. 

“If Copia gets pissed, it’s on you,” Aether warns. Swiss nods, urging him to open it already. Aether takes a few steps back, bringing his foot up high before bringing it down harshly on the door handle. It breaks easily and the broken knob falls to the floor. Swiss pushes past him and nudges the door open. What he sees, or doesn’t see, is worse than whatever he imagined. 

“What the fuck did you do to the door?” The cardinal enters the room, woken by Aether kicking the door open. He is wrapped in an opulent robe, pushing by his ghouls, noticing all are present, spare his drummer. “Where’s Mountain?”

Looking within the cramped bathroom, Copia sees the rug shoved into a corner and bottles littering the floor. Most notably, though, is the cracked mirror, droplets of black ichor in the sink, and no Mountain.

“What the fuck happened? Where’s my drummer?” Copia turns from the doorway, looking at what remains of his ghouls. Swiss is the most shaken, nervously picking at his bottom lip.

“I don’t know,” he begins. “I heard him yelling and ran out. The door was locked and suddenly he just,” Swiss meets the cardinal’s gaze, “stopped.”

“Well, where’d he go?”

“I don’t fucking know!” With all the questions being thrown at him, on top of one of his partners disappearing, Swiss is quickly overwhelmed. Copia is silent for a few moments, thinking of the best course of action given the circumstances.

“We need to get back to the abbey,” he runs his hand along his jaw. “Cancel the tour. Make up something to tell the public.” Rain’s ears dip back at his cardinal’s words; what kind of shit has to go down that warrants canceling in the midst of touring?

“We’re only a few hours out, it shouldn’t be long before we’re back home,” Copia paces through the small room. “Everyone watch each other, I don’t need any more of you to go fucking missing.”

The cardinal turns, heading back to his quarters within the bus. He leaves his door ajar, allowing those who seek his comfort to do so. His ghouls are left to stare at one another, all shaken from the events of the past fifteen minutes. Cumulus looks up at her partner, meeting her worried eyes. 

“We can watch over each other,” she says, to which Cirrus nods in agreement. Aether runs a comforting hand along Swiss’s back. With the quintessence running through him, Aether feels the guilt weighing down on his partner. 

“Can we trust you to watch yourselves?” The taller ghoulette prompts. Both Rain and Swiss solemnly nod. The two ghoulettes are too shaken up to go back to sleep, but they return to their bunks to comfort one another. 

Left in the common room of the bus is Aether, Dew, Rain, and Swiss. Rain’s tail is wrapped nervously around his left leg, wide eyes flickering between the other ghouls.

“What do you think happened to him?” The water ghoul’s voice is quiet, as if speaking too loudly would cause more harm. Swiss doesn’t respond; his eyes stare ahead, unfocused, as he idly bites his clawed nails, leaving Aether to answer. He lets out a sigh, thinking over his words carefully before speaking.

“Has to be some kind of magic,” Aether begins, “and judging by the mess, Mountain was an unwilling participant.” He thinks back to the tarry ghoul blood that stained the sink and the strewn toiletries. Dew furrows his eyebrows in thought, though he does not speak. Rain takes it upon himself to break the silence.

“We should—”

“Yes.” Swiss interrupts him, stiffly turning and walking past his fellow ghouls, back to their stacked bunks. The rest follow, silently padding down the thin hall. Each goes to their respective bunk, though none of them sleep.


	2. They heard... and up they sprung / Upon the wing...

Air heavy with ash and sulfur fills a thin crevice as two figures squeeze through. The first figure, tall and lithe with a quiet voice, walks in front of the other ghoul, older yet steadfast. Old paintings and carvings in the cold stone lead them in the correct direction: the crevice opens up to a large plateau with an outcrop of black rock in the middle. The outcrop stands high over their heads, easily surpassing twenty feet in height. 

The second figure pushes past the first, quickly making their way to the massive stone formation. As the first catches up, the second drops to their knees before the sheer face of the monolith, sifting through a small bag of belongings. 

“Mansah,” the second hisses at the ghoul above them. They give Mansah a small obsidian blade before turning back to their bag. Mansah chirps affirmatively, taking the blade and firmly holding in his hand. He presses the sharp bladed end into his left palm and runs it across the width of his hand. Black blood fills the wound, a few drops spilling onto the ground beneath him. For a moment, he is bewitched at the sight of his own blood: thick and dark, like liquid blue goldstone.

Crouching down beside the second ghoul and starting at the base of the stone monolith, Mansah drags his hand slowly along its cold surface, leaving a trail of his ichor. He stands tall and makes a large arc above his head before trailing back down. Finished, he brings his bloodied palm to his lips, lapping at the warm blood. Even with a limited grasp on healing magic, Mansah’s wound slowly begins to close from each pass of his tongue. 

“Samalk-aax, gnisho,” Mansah gives the blade back to Samalk-aax, who stands with white chalk in their hand. They gesture for their apprentice to take a few steps back before resuming. Samalk-aax presses the chalk against the stone and begins with a large circle, within the outline Mansah smeared. Nested inside that circle, numerous intersecting lines and curves; the seal is finished with a few ancient Ghoulish glyphs and Samalk-aax mumbling the appropriate words. 

Mansah watches, transfixed, as the seal begins to warp and tear a hole between two worlds. The surface of the rock begins to ebb and flow, as the seam of the portal spreads like a flame, stretching towards the line of Mansah’s blood. The edges of the portal smolder, like embers, as Samalk-aax settles on a destination; the abbey on the surface, full of ghouls of all elements and all clans. 

“Ir vefa naca roroth Renich ghuleh du,” Samalk-aax orders as the image within the portal settles. It shows a dark room, with two ghoulettes holding onto one another while they sleep, surrounded by thick fabrics within their nest. From their scent, Mansah knows they’re Air ghouls, low hanging fruit.

The older ghoul allows Mansah to enter first, then follows. The room’s cool temperature is in stark contrast to the stuffy heat of Hell, sending a shiver down the apprentice’s spine. Taking in his surroundings, Mansah notices their portal manifested itself within a full body mirror against the wall opposite of the nest.

Samalk-aax motions for Mansah to go around the left side of the nest while they take the right. On their signal, Mansah throws one hand over the short ghoulette’s mouth and grabs her by the arm; Samalk-aax does the same with the taller ghoulette. The elder roughly pulls the ghoulette to her feet, they quickly hold her hands painfully between her shoulder blades, to which she yelps into the hand covering her mouth. 

It’s obvious the two ghoulettes are mated. The short one’s eyes flicker to her mate as she cries in pain, more worried for her than for herself. She bites Mansah’s hand over her mouth and slashes her spaded tail against her assailant’s legs. He meets his teacher’s harsh gaze, though they say nothing, Mansah hears them loud and clear: get her under control. He mirrors Samalk-aax and secures the ghoulette’s hands behind her back with rope, ignoring the superficial cuts and bites in his flesh. 

Slowly, the two ghouls drag their captives back to the portal. Despite how much they struggle and fight, Air ghouls have nothing on them. The tall one, though, proves to be persistent and continues to kick against Samalk-aax’s legs and scream into their hand. She tries to twist herself, her tail sweeping across any flat surface in the room, knocking tchotchkes onto the floor. 

“Hesta par!” Samalk-aax roars over her, tightening their grip on her hands. Within a few feet of the portal, Samalk-aax puts all of their weight into throwing the ghoulette through. They gesture for Mansah to do the same. He slowly waddles back to the portal’s entrance and pushes the shorter ghoulette before following her. 

The ghoulettes are clearly unaccustomed to the use of portals. Once through, the taller one falls to her knees and dry heaves, saliva staining the red dirt. The shorter is fatigued and nauseated, but remains on her feet. Both’s breathing are ragged and strained from the stuffy atmosphere, laden with dust and other particulates. 

“Renich ghuleh tach,” Mansah laughs as he yanks the shorter ghoulette toward him by her restraints. Her ears twitch at the insult; she twists herself around, lunging at her captor. 

“Qaev ni tach, lanire!” Even with her hands tied behind her back, she catches Mansah off guard and knocks him off his feet. She lands on him, baring her teeth, straining to reach his flesh. Samalk-aax grabs her by the nape of her neck, easily lifting her off their apprentice. With minimal effort, they throw her aside, towards her mate. The taller one, reeking of fear, scrambles as best she can to her mate, crying out her name. 

Mansah remembers Samalk-aax teaching him about the trivial nicknames surface ghouls give to one another. How uncreative they are, assigning each other English words associated with their elements. 

Samalk-aax gestures Mansah to recover his captive, doing the same themself. Their hand firmly placed on the taller ghoulette’s back, between her shoulder blades, nudging her away from the monolith. With all ghouls clear of the portal, they begin to mumble ancient Ghoulish to close the portal. From the top right edge, they smear the white chalk and dried blood off the sheer face of the stone, returning it to its former state.

The teacher turns back to their apprentice and captives, telling Mansah to lead the way back. Dutifully, he has the two ghoulettes trail behind him, with Samalk-aax in the rear, retracing his steps from before. Away from the outcrop, towards the thin crevice from whence they came. 

A few sections of the crevice are too narrow to accommodate a shoulder width, requiring them to press their chests flush against the cold stone walls. Again, Mansah acknowledges the old carvings; this time, pointing them away from the monolith, back towards their outpost. The taller ghoulette stumbles over her own feet a few times, earning a sharp hiss from Samalk-aax to get herself together. 

As the four reach the crevice’s entrance, the landscape once again opens up to a large clearing. The dirt below their bare feet turns from soft, red dirt to dark brown earth, packed down from centuries of footfalls. Mansah continues to lead them towards a ridge; once they reach the top, he hears a light gasp from the shorter ghoulette. 

Below the edge of the ridge is their small outpost, almost underwhelming. Further beyond, though, in the valley stands a powerful city. Surrounded by deep cracks in the earth from which fire spews, the many ghouls and other demons are small compared to its grand archways. The city is strong, sturdy, and made of solid gold. The city is the capital of Hell, Pandaemonium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translated Ghoulish:  
> "Samalk-aax, take."  
> "From this circle, bring two air ghoulettes."  
> "Hesta par" is an expletive, literally meaning "curse thee."  
> "Weak air ghoulettes."  
> "We are not weak."


	3. Rous'd from the slumber... / At thir great Emperors call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the chapter title isn't a typo; John Milton just wrote Like That.

A line of sweat runs down the side of his face, which he absentmindedly wipes away, in the midst of his frenzy. The cardinal runs his fingertips across the spines of hundreds of ancient books; some with gilded pages, some bound in leather, some nearly turned to dust. Mismatched eyes flicker across the titles, fruitlessly searching for anything to explain “suddenly disappearing ghouls.” When Sister Imperator finds him, he’s leafing through the endless pages tucked away in a filing cabinet.

“Cardinal?” Her quiet entry to his office startles him, “it’s half past one in the morning.”

“Sister!” If his appearance did not give away his emotional state, his voice does. Copia quickly turns on his heels, hiding his hands behind his back, like a child caught doing something they shouldn’t. He watches her eyes trail around the room, across the strewn folders and loose papers, centuries old grimoires thrown haphazardly on the ground. 

“What are you up to?” The sister’s words are slow and calculated, slowly making her way through the office, minding her step.

“Can’t a cardinal partake in some late night reading?” A huff of air escapes him, trying to act casual. Naturally, he fails. The sister raises her arm toward the door, and with a flick of her wrist, it closes. 

“I am all ears,” even her attempts at sincerity sound forced. Copia jumps at the sound of the door, his eyes meeting his superior’s. Sister can practically see the gears of the cardinal’s mind turning, thinking over an internal turmoil. Finally, he swallows his pride.

“Sister, I need your guidance.” 

Thus, Copia relays the situation from several hours before. About Mountain suddenly and mysteriously disappearing from the touring bus. He makes sure to answer the simple questions before they can even be asked: are you sure he got on the bus; are his ghouls mentally sound; are you sure he actually disappeared?

Once informed, Sister Imperator takes a moment to fully think it over. She silently makes her way over to one of the bookshelves lining the office’s walls, precisely picking an old book from the shelf. With her clairvoyance, she opens to the exact page she needs and makes her way back to the cardinal.

“He is an earth ghoul, yes?” She asks him; he nods. She turns the book around so he can see, pointing at the appropriate passage. 

“Despite being bound to the surface within the clergy, ghouls can be summoned back to Hell in times of need,” the sister paraphrases. “With our dear Mountain belonging to the element of earth, his kind would be the first to be summoned, along with air and fire ghouls.”

“Why is that?” This is all new information to Copia. Never was he informed of this fine print rule; hell, he was barely informed on anything, as he was just a cardinal. 

“Earth, along with air and fire, are the lowest ranking elements in Hell and within ghoul culture. Think of them as pawns in a game of chess: numerous and dispensable,” she begins to think allowed. “For them to summon surface ghouls, let alone band ghouls, something big must be happening down there...”

“Like what?” Copia tries to remain calm, but with the more information he learns, the more his anxiety bubbles up.

“I haven’t the slightest clue. If I were you, though, I’d keep close watch on your ghouls. I will talk with Papa about this.” She closes the book, but instead of placing it back on the shelf, she sets it gently on Copia’s desk. The sister takes a few steps toward the door before turning back. “Oh, and Cardinal,” she allows a small glimpse of empathy to slip through her tough exterior, “do not blame yourself for this. It is entirely out of your control.” Just as silently as she entered, she leaves, quietly closing the door in her wake. 

Only a moment after the sister leaves, though, a noise that makes the cardinal’s stomach churn echoes through their wing of the abbey. Two female screams, along with clattering and an apparent struggle, distinctly his two ghoulettes. A terrified thought enters his mind: Sister was right, air was next to be summoned back to Hell. 

Copia quickly lunges at the door, flinging it open. Sister was only a few steps away, looking back at him with equal fear. He runs past her, toward the ghouls’ quarters, Sister following close behind.

Rain’s tail softly thuds against Swiss’s bedsheets. The latter sits on the edge of his bed, motionless as Rain envelopes him from behind; wrapping his arms around Mutli’s middle and gently butting his horns against his shoulder blades. He finally rests his cheek on his partner’s shoulder, quietly trilling in his throat, trying to comfort him. 

“It’s not your fault,” Rain reminds him. It’s become a mantra within the past few hours. The water ghoul can only feel the guilt within Swiss grow and churn, making him wish he had the empathic abilities of a quintessence ghoul. 

“It’s not your fault,” he repeats, running his hands up and down Swiss’s arms, as if to warm him up. Rain closes his eyes and tries to focus on the guilt drowning Swiss.

“But it is!” Swiss explodes, standing up abruptly and turning to face Rain before beginning to pace around the room. “I shouldn’t’ve hesitated, I should’ve just broken the fucking door down myself! I could feel that something was wrong, why did I just stand there like an idiot while he was—” He catches himself; he still doesn’t know specifically what happened to Mountain, and part of him doesn’t want to think of the horrible things that could be happening to him. 

“You can’t focus on what you ‘should’ve’ done. You did what you thought was right in the moment.”

“If I’d kicked the door down, he’d still be here!” Rain’s words of comfort fall on deft ears as Swiss starts to pace again. Rain slides to the edge of the bed and stands, gently reaching out to touch Swiss. He flinches at the contact, hard, and harshly turns to Rain, swiping him across the face.

For a second, Rain just stands, awestruck. Slowly, he brings his hand to his cheek and looks at his fingers stained with black blood. He stumbles backwards and falls onto the bed; completely dumbfounded rather than in pain.

“Shit,” Swiss immediately regrets his actions, his ears dipping back in fear. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, Rainy, I’m so sorry,” he drops to the floor, between Rain’s knees. The tears that bead up in Rain’s beautiful eyes shatter his heart into a million pieces. His actions were purely reflexive, never was it his intention to hurt his partner. He gently rubs the outside of Rain’s thigh, begging him to say something.

Rain sniffles, but otherwise makes no noise. Swiss slowly raises himself up and sits next to Rain, softly running his thumb over Rain’s cheek to wipe away the shed tear. 

“I’m so, so sorry,” Swiss gently holds Rain by the chin, turning his head either way to inspect the damage he’d done. Thankfully, the clean black line staining Rain’s skin isn’t too deep, and could go without stitches. “Let me clean you up,” Swiss stands and leaves for the bathroom, searching for the tiny first aid kit beneath the sink. When he returns, the water ghoul is rubbing his eye, like a tired child.

“Let me see,” Swiss sits next to Rain and surveys the split skin. He carefully cleans the wound and bandages it. Rain has his hands folded neatly in his lap as Swiss takes them in his own hands, bringing them to his lips to kiss the back. The feeling of regret within Swiss nearly outweighs the guilt, Rain notices. He gives a small smile to Multi and returns his gesture, gently kissing the knuckles of his hand. 

Their moment is short lived as terrible screams fill the halls of the abbey. Both snap their heads toward the door and twitch their ears, trying to decipher the source. Rain is the first to leave the bed and cross the room, opening the door and half-jogging down the hall. Swiss follows, not that either of them know where they are going. As the two ghouls pass rooms, a few doors crack open at the commotion. 

The shrieks come from only a few doors down, from the ghoulettes’ room. As Rain presses his ear to the door, Copia and Sister Imperator round the corner, looking just as worried. The same fear that filled Swiss when Mountain disappeared rears its head again, though this time he refuses to do nothing. 

“Let me through,” Swiss nudges Rain to the side and rattles the handle. Thankfully, the ghoulettes don’t lock their door, and it swings open. They are moments too late, though, as the spaded tail of a ghoul passes through some kind of portal and quickly closes behind them.

“Fuck!” Copia pushes himself into the room, running both gloved hands through his hair. “What the fuck do we do?”

“I don’t think there is anything we can do,” Sister Imperator places a hand on the cardinal’s back.

“Wait, wait,” Swiss interrupts them as the remaining band ghouls congregate in the doorway, “do you guys know something about what’s happening?” Sister turns around to meet his furrowed gaze.

“I believe there’s… something taking place in Hell that requires the surface ghouls to return there. At present, we do not know the reason.” The sister’s voice remains calm, but there is a hint of worry within it.

“‘Return?’ Half of us haven’t even fucking been to Hell before!” Dew makes his presence known, spitting his words at Sister, as if this is her fault. His hostility is justified, given the countless stories they’ve been told as kits of the horrors of Hell. Sister raises her hands defensively.

“If there’s a problem, I’m sure you can bring it up to the Dark Lord, Himself,” she takes a few steps back. Dew immediately stands down, shrinking back to the doorway, to Aether. The sister continues, “Until further notice, you will be relieved of all your duties and chores. Look after one another, despite what little good that did for the ghoulettes.” Her voice trails off as she eyes the carnage of the room.

Slowly, they all leave the ghoulettes’ room; Swiss is the last to leave, working over the past few hours internally. He finds what remains of the band ghouls sitting in the common area, quietly talking to one another. Rain perks up at the sight of him and scoots a bit to the side to make room on the couch. Quietly, Swiss takes a seat as Rain rests his head on his shoulder and holds his arm.

“Tell them what you told me,” Dew gently prods Aether, who stares at his large hands.

“I’ve—” Aether hesitates, “I’ve been seeing things in the aether while I sleep, like, uh, visions.” Quintessence ghouls receiving messages through the aether is not entirely unheard of, but is considered a rare gift. Aether continues:

“Of Hell, what I remember of it, anyway. Standing in a massive crowd of other ghouls, armed with spears and swords. I can’t make out any faces, but I can feel they’re all as terrified as I am. I think— I think something terrible is happening down there.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be frank: This is going to be updated irregularly with no real schedule. I *will* finish it, though, even if it's the last thing I do. Buckle up and enjoy the ride!


End file.
